


Find We Endure

by skyshadedblue



Series: Mating Games 2014 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fairy Tale Curses, Fox Stiles, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-19
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-25 16:58:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1655768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyshadedblue/pseuds/skyshadedblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A scent had been following Derek for days, achingly familiar and terribly surreal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Find We Endure

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [Challenge 1](http://mating-games.livejournal.com/14749.html) of the [Mating Games 2014](http://mating-games.livejournal.com/)... but due to my careless mistake, it was never officially submitted. Thanks to oh captain my captain, HT (hardticket), for making it so that at least I wasn't a total liability to Team Human OTL

A scent had been following Derek for days, achingly familiar and terribly surreal.

He looks out into the preserve, the smell growing too strong to ignore, walks away from the house, steps slow and steady.

He flinches when he hears rustling in the brush. A fox’s head pops up, its lithe body leaping out after, when a wave of _Stiles’_ scent rushes through his senses. He runs after it.

The evening hits twilight when Derek nearly traps it, but it evades him, prancing under his legs. Derek spins around to grab hold of it, chokes on an inhale when he sees the fox grow larger, red fur melding into skin.

Under the light of the moon, a pale wight of a man stands on the stump of a tree, body baring all.

Derek steps on a crackling branch and eyes of glassy amber flit towards him.

Stiles.

The smile on his face is wan, gaze weak and unfocused, but in one swift leap, he stands directly in front of Derek.

Derek can’t look away, not understanding how this couldn't be a hallucination.

This fox-turned-Stiles grabs hold of his arm as he stumbles backwards, doesn’t let go. Derek freezes when he leans in to capture his lips, but the sensation is so reassuring, he falls into it, hands automatically gliding up Stiles’ body, slighter than he remembers, as Stiles finds his way to Derek’s skin beneath his shirt and pulls it over his head. 

_This can’t be real._

Derek shoves Stiles up against a tree and grabs him by the chin, forcing eye contact. “What are you?” he roars, struggles to speak, to breathe. “You can’t be--This is a dream. How did you find me? You can’t--”

Stiles’--The fox’s lips twist into a pained grimace. He doesn’t say a word, only counts his fingers.

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five._

Derek's grip tightens and water wells in Stiles’ eyes as he voicelessly gasps for breath. He strains to lift his hand to Derek’s temple, fingers mildly brushing down his face where Derek realizes his wolf has come out. 

“You’re--”

He loosens his hold immediately and the expression on Stiles’ face is one of relief.

Stiles points at his own throat, makes a zipping gesture, then waves a sprightly finger between Derek and himself. 

“You can’t talk,” Derek says, "because of magic?"

Stiles nods vigorously before grinning in mute laughter. He holds Derek’s face--watching closely, soft eyes flickering here and there, as if he were cataloging every detail--and drops in to dip his tongue between Derek’s lips, bypassing his fangs to lick the roof of his mouth. Derek keens.

“Stiles, what--”

The moon grows brighter against the darkening sky. Stiles’ skin glows with it and Derek suppresses the urge to howl. Stiles brushes his tongue along Derek’s jaw and down his collarbone, cock hard and rubbing Derek’s thigh. He swirls his finger under Derek’s ear to the rhythm of his rut, his other hand working to undo Derek’s jeans. Derek rumbles low in his throat, Stiles driving their bare cocks between entwined hands.

_It's been too long._

Derek uses his free hand to hold Stiles' head to his, both drenched with heat and sweat.

It isn’t until Derek is close, on the edge of a crest, that he realizes Stiles’ lips are moving, and that he’s etching a pattern into his skin.

A protection rune.

_Trust me._

_I do,_ Derek is compelled to reply, feels as if a ball of heat is building in his gut waiting to burst if he doesn’t, but instead, manically strips their cocks faster and faster, until their stomachs are covered with come.

Stiles’ chest heaves in time with Derek’s, his fingers drawing the same sigil over and over along Derek’s nape.

_I missed you._

Derek snarls, a deep rolling thunder, taking Stiles to the ground, kisses him with a desperate pressure, trying to fit all the things for which he doesn’t have words.

Without warning, Stiles writhes wildly under him, and _moans_.

Derek nearly startles off Stiles, but Stiles throws his arms around Derek’s neck, tugging him back down for another crushing kiss.

He pants against Derek’s lips, says, “You broke the curse.” Derek feels his smirk. “Now you can’t say we don’t have a durable attachment to each other.”

Stiles marks him below the ear. “I found you.”

_We found each other._

“So please,” he whispers, “Don’t run away again.”

Derek finds it in himself to close his eyes and nod, clutching Stiles close.


End file.
